


For Respite Brief

by fearlessdiva



Series: Mutant Blues [7]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 14:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlessdiva/pseuds/fearlessdiva
Summary: Inspired by the Wolverine #6 cover (see the amazing cover art by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock below!) and written in honor of my beloved Fay Jay's birthday. Logan doesn't know how to stay and he doesn't know how to leave. Written September 2003.





	For Respite Brief

**Author's Note:**

> With the greatest of love for Fay Jay on her birthday, and thanks to those who encourage my insanity.

 

The shower was noisy and Kurt was humming as he turned the water off; he supposed that's why he didn't hear the break-in. It wasn't until he stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel vigorously over his damp head and wearing only his skin, that he realized he wasn't alone.

Logan was sitting at the little table, with his hand wrapped around one of Kurt's beers and a look on his face like death. The door to Kurt's room was shut, but the door handle was lying on the floor before it with the bits and pieces of the lock mechanism all around it, cleanly shorn off by adamantium claws. Kurt stopped drying his hair and let the towel hang loosely from his left hand.

"I should give you a key," he said, but Logan's expression didn't change. Kurt felt sick. Each mission, someone took their turn at staying behind to watch over the school, and this was the nightmare of it, far worse than the nerves of combat. Tonight had been Kurt's turn and now Logan was just sitting there like a lump of rock. Like a gravestone. "What has happened?"

"Mission accomplished."

"Is everyone - someone was hurt?" Logan just kept staring and Kurt had a sudden desire to wrap his tail around his neck and throttle him. "For the love of God, just tell me!"

"Scooter."

Kurt's throat closed tight. It took two tries before he could even swallow. "He is . . .?" He couldn't make himself say the word.

"Infirmary."

Kurt made the sign of the cross in a flood of relief. "Thank God. Thank merciful God. He is hurt, then? Badly hurt?"

Logan nodded and took a long drink of beer.

"How badly, Logan?"

"Hit his head, he's not awake yet. But the Professor thinks he's going to be all right. Concussion, but probably not life threatening. Broke a leg, too, but it's a clean break. Should heal up okay."

"Thank God," Kurt repeated, and made the sign of the cross again. He wrapped the towel in his hand around his waist and went to his little refrigerator to get a beer for himself. He popped the top with the bottle opener sitting on top of the fridge, and then joined Logan at the table. "So, if Scott will heal, tell me why you look like Grim Death, and why you've killed another of my doorknobs."

"I was out of beer."

Kurt laughed. "That is a serious problem, my friend, I admit. Worth perhaps killing a doorknob or two. But not so serious that you should sit there looking as though all the world's joy has disappeared. Explain."

Logan glowered and drained the rest of his beer. Kurt got up, pulled another from the fridge, opened it and set it before his friend. Then he sat down again and patiently waited. He could afford to be patient now, now that he knew they wouldn't be having another funeral.

Logan took a drink from the new beer and set it down. "I couldn't get to him in time." He took another drink, set it down again. "I saw that he was in trouble, and I was plowing through bad guys as fast I as could, but I couldn't get to him. He could have been killed. And I couldn't do anything about it." Just like Jean. Logan didn't need to speak the words for Kurt to hear them. "What's the point of having me around if I can't stop this kind of shit from happening? If someone's going to be tossed into walls head first, it's supposed to be me."

"You can't protect us all the time, my friend. And that is not your job."

He slammed his fist down on the table, leaving a dent under his hand. "God damn it, I can't even stand that little shit!" His voice was choked with tears he wouldn't vent. "Insisted on going in first, stupid pissing contest bullshit. I don't know if he's trying to get himself killed or just wants to be the alpha male."

"Perhaps he thought it would be more fair if you weren't always the one thrown into walls head first."

Logan took another long drink of beer. "His skull's so thick you'd think it wouldn't do him any harm." His face and voice were still tightly drawn, but at least he was talking.

Kurt smiled and sipped his own beer.

"I can't stay here, Blue. When I start to give a shit about Scooter's health, there's something seriously off in Loganland. Maybe it's time for another trip North, clear my head for a while."

Well, there they were, the words Kurt had been expecting since their first kiss. It wasn't in Logan's nature to stay in one place for long. And they hadn't made any promises to one another, hadn't even publicly acknowledged the situation between them, although of course everyone knew. Every night spent in Logan's arms was borrowed. He had known it. And so he had a calm expression prepared, one he had honed over a thousand dagger-sharp, lonely-night rehearsals. "You must do what you must."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

It means I don't want you to go, dumkopf, Kurt thought. It means I hate myself a little for it, too. It means I would go with you if you asked me. It means, God willing, I will still be here if you come back.

But he just sighed and kept his expression carefully neutral. "Logan. If you come back, we will all be here. Things will, perhaps, be different. Time passes, we may have more scars, yes? But your place will be here still."

Logan didn't say anything for a long time, only stared at Kurt with narrowed eyes as if somehow the whole situation was his fault. Kurt just drank his beer and waited in resignation to hear what else he would say.

"Blue," His voice wavered and he swallowed more beer. "If I came back, and something had happened to you while I was gone . . ." He gripped his bottle so hard Kurt was surprised it didn't break. "And if I stay, and something happens to you and I have to watch it . . ."

That was more truth than Kurt had expected; Logan usually ran away before words with that much weight could flee his mouth. "But it isn't just me that you worry about."

"No. Not just you. But you and Marie most of all."

And how foolish was it, to let this admission flood him with relief and pleasure? To think that being of the elite, those worried about most of all, could carry some kind of hope. "Your amazing body does not excuse you from the human condition, my friend. You can run, and perhaps eventually you will forget us all, but a life without caring, I think, is not worth living."

"It was easier when I was on my own."

"Easier, yes."

Logan sighed and covered his face with his hands. Kurt got up and stood close to him. He reached down and gently tilted Logan's chin up so he could meet his eyes. Slate blue, rimmed with red, with swaths of purple beneath that had nothing to do with his body and everything to do with his mind. "You're tired. Come to bed."

"I was planning to get drunk."

Kurt smiled and leaned down to kiss him, gently. "I could distract you instead."

"Yeah. You could."

Kurt took his hand and led him toward the bedroom, his heart singing with its reprieve. One more night at least, and maybe more. With luck, with grace, maybe more.

Logan reached over and tugged the towel off Kurt's hips. "The view is more distracting this way," he said.

Kurt waved his tail in amusement and put just a little bit of sway into his steps. When they got to the bedroom, Logan allowed Kurt to push him down onto the bed, let Kurt straddle him and gently remove his t-shirt, permitted Kurt to open his fly and see that, as usual, Logan was unconstrained by underwear. Kurt grinned his naughtiest grin. After a few licks and kisses where they were clearly desperately needed, Kurt slid down to take off Logan's boots, and socks, and then pull the trousers off to leave them in a puddle on the floor. He felt a sense of accomplishment that Logan was allowing him to take care of him, something he rarely did. And also that he had a completely naked Logan in his bed, a circumstance which always seemed miraculous to Kurt, no matter how often (if irregularly) it happened. Tonight it seemed even more than usual to be a gift, something to be relished and never taken for granted.

He stood and devoured the sight of Logan lying nude on his bed, until Logan growled, "You just gonna stand there starin' or what, bub?"

"I am deciding what to do with you."

"Oh, yeah? That's bold words for such a little guy. What if I have things I was plannin' to do to you?"

"Then you will have to wait your turn." Logan smirked and Kurt felt pleased with himself. "I will be right back."

Kurt went into the bathroom and found the condoms, the lube and a bottle of cocoa-scented massage oil that Storm had given him. She had returned laden with packages after an afternoon of what she called "retail therapy" and dug through one of the bags to hand the bottle to him with a triumphant grin. "Maybe you can coax some romance out of the big lug," she had said, and Kurt had blushed blue to the tips of his ears. But when he opened the bottle to smell it, he had to admit, to himself at least, that he couldn't wait to try it out. He hoped Logan's permissive mood would last at least another hour.

He bamfed back into the bedroom, to find Logan staring at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head, a dark expression gathering on his face. He'd been thinking, and that was exactly what Kurt had promised to prevent. Kurt held the condoms, lube and oil behind his back like a surprise. "Please roll over? Onto your stomach, ja?"

Logan gave him a dubious look, but complied.

Kurt straddled Logan's lower back and set the condoms and lube on the bed next to him. He opened the massage oil and poured some into his palms and rubbed them together to warm it.

Logan sniffed. "Chocolate?"

Kurt rubbed the oil onto Logan's shoulders by way of answer, and began kneading up the shoulders into the neck. Logan hmmed appreciatively and Kurt smiled.

"Only you would find chocolate flavored massage oil, Blue. You have such a sweet tooth." Logan's voice began to uncurl and relax for the first time that evening, in synch with the knots under his skin.

"I do. Such a sweet tooth." He kept working the shoulders until the muscles started to relax and then moved down to give the shoulder blades the same treatment. He spent at least half an hour working on Logan's back, completely innocently, enjoying the scent of the oil and the feel of his lover's skin under his hands.

"You're damn good at that, bub. You could have a second career if the superhero thing starts to bore you." He sounded half-asleep at least.

"Third career. Having had one already, yes? I learned massage at the circus."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Logan rumbled, and Kurt laughed.

"Friendly massages only, mein freund. One performer to another, rubbing out the kinks and aches. No need to be jealous."

"No right to be, anyway. Blue, you don't owe me anything -" Kurt could feel the muscles tightening under his fingers as Logan spoke.

"Shhhh. Don't. That is all past and future. This is only here and now. Relax. Breathe. All the rest will wait." He dug in a bit harder and Logan started to relax again.

Kurt pressed the heels of his hands up the muscles on each side of the spine and Logan made a contented sound. He kept that up a few more times, and then scooted back just a little, so that as he leaned forward to follow the length of the backbone, he rubbed himself against Logan's backside. By the second stroke he was hard, and Logan was tilting his hips back to get closer. Kurt slipped back a little farther and began massaging Logan's hips and the gorgeous muscles of his ass. He poured a little of the oil on himself and kept sliding forward and back as he leaned into the work.

"I would like to be inside you," Kurt whispered in Logan's ear as he leaned forward. "May I?"

"God, yes. If you promise to do it soon."

"Not too soon, but soon enough."

Logan answered with a little growl of rebellion, but stayed obediently where he was, and Kurt continued what he was doing until Logan was squirming underneath him in frustration, and his own desire was boiling. He lifted up to give Logan room and said, "Turn over."

He did so without a word. His eyes were dark with sex and a spark of desperation, some unconscious plea to be swept away, to be rescued. Kurt understood. Even superheroes needed to be saved sometimes, if only from themselves, even if they didn't like to admit it. He wanted to play the hero now, give Logan respite and a chance to forget everything but pleasure. Even if Logan stole Scott's motorcycle again the next morning and disappeared, Kurt wanted the last memory of their time together to be of something sweet.

He leaned down and kissed him, tenderly at first but then with increasing passion and a desperation of his own to hold what he knew could not be caged. Their bodies rubbed together, sparking, needy, driven, and finally Kurt sat up to cover himself with a condom and pour some lubricant into his hand.

Still Logan was quiet, unusually so, though his eyes were chanting litanies of yes. Kurt slid down between his legs, the fragrant oil sweetening the friction of their skin, and took him in his mouth, ever so careful of his sharp teeth. Logan moaned and pushed into his mouth hard, carelessly, growling, "Yes, Blue, yes, inside too, you fucking tease."

Kurt laughed and complied with a slicked finger, and Logan growled wordlessly and bucked into him. Kurt kept stretching him and writing hymns of love upon him with his tongue until Logan was driven nearly wild, and Kurt himself growing desperate. He pulled back, slicked himself, set Logan's knees against his chest and slid inside him.

Having Logan beneath him, all pulsing heat and moans of abandon, was nearly enough to overcome him. He stopped to compose himself, but the look on Logan's face was so open, so frankly slack with pleasure that it did little good. He kissed him hard and began to move. Logan hummed into his mouth and pushed back to meet him. Kurt's body was pulling him along helplessly into a rhythm of its own choosing, faster, harder, and Logan was pushing back onto him in time, harder still. Kurt was flying, falling, rushing up too quickly to his release, but he couldn't control it. He curled his tail around Logan to stroke him, and Logan came, stuttering cries to God and dragging Kurt over the edge as well in an orgasm so wrenching it was almost painful.

He collapsed onto Logan, his ear pressed to Logan's chest so that he could hear his heart hammering and feel the breath flowing in and out of his lungs. Logan slid his legs down to wrap around Kurt's thighs and sighed. Kurt laid there for a few more moments, then pulled back and Logan let him go. He disposed of the condom in the bathroom and used a washcloth from the cabinet to clean himself up before taking another, fresh one out to his friend.

Logan hadn't moved and looked, in fact, to be asleep. He stirred when Kurt ran the cloth over his belly gently to clean him and his eyes opened just enough to see through. "Hey, elf," he murmured. "Come to bed. It's cold without you."

Kurt smiled and turned the bedcovers down so Logan could scoot over and cover himself up. Logan took the cloth out of Kurt's hand, tossed it on the floor, and held the edge of the blankets up. "Come to bed," he repeated, sounded somewhat less sleepy and slightly more threatening. Kurt did as he was told, with a fond shake of his head.

Logan settled the covers around them and pulled Kurt into his arms, nuzzling into the tender side of Kurt's neck.

"I'd miss this," he said quietly. "If I left."

Kurt swallowed and finally managed to answer, "As would I."

"Too much. And, just everything. Watching you eat. The stupid kids tripping over their own feet. Stealing your sissy beer. I don't know how I can stay here, but I don't know how to leave."

"Shhh. Stay for as long as you can. Leave when you must, and come back when you are able. But for now, just sleep. Sleep."

Logan kissed his throat and settled back in. In a few moments, his breathing was deep and even and his arm was a solid, warm, boneless weight, trapping Kurt at his side. Kurt's last thought before he drifted off to sleep was perhaps then we'll have another week or two, at least, God willing.

**Author's Note:**

> The title makes reference to the following poem by Wordsworth:
> 
> Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom's creed,  
> A pitiable doom; for respite brief  
> A care more anxious, or a heavier grief?  
> Is he ungrateful, and doth little heed  
> God's bounty, soon forgotten; or indeed,  
> Must Man, with labour born, awake to sorrow  
> When Flowers rejoice and Larks with rival speed  
> Spring from their nests to bid the Sun good morrow?  
> They mount for rapture as their songs proclaim  
> Warbled in hearing both of earth and sky;  
> But o'er the contrast wherefore heave a sigh?  
> Like those aspirants let us soar--our aim,  
> Through life's worst trials, whether shocks or snares,  
> A happier, brighter, purer Heaven than theirs.


End file.
